


A Hidden Hero

by CMMLovr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMMLovr/pseuds/CMMLovr
Summary: Snapshots of the events leading up to McGonagall and Snape's confrontation in the Great Hall, and the duration of Snape's time as headmaster at Hogwarts.





	A Hidden Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoenix_Fairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Fairy/gifts).



Evening crept across the grounds of Hogwarts at a glacial pace; the darkness combed its fingers across the sky delicately, dampening the day’s light to a suitable gloom. The castle’s lights had begun to twinkle, glittering on the lake’s surface with each ripple caused by its many inhabitants. It was a typical autumn evening, and once night fell, a stifling darkness was soon to follow. Apt, considering the still and silent air within the castle’s walls. Or, more specifically, in Dumbledore’s office. For, in truth, it had never ceased to be his office – at least, Professor Snape thought so.

It was the first night of the school year for Professors; the students would be arriving the following week. So, for a while at least, the castle would remain as peaceful as it had been all summer. Snape would know: he had long since abandoned his London flat for his quarters at the school. Or, at least, had done so at the first, safe, opportunity. Now that he was headmaster, he reasoned that it was his duty to stay and protect the castle. Though he was loath to admit, Hogwarts had been his first, and possibly only, truly happy home. He had been tormented, true, but the castle itself had always been a haven of sorts to him. Now, it was his duty to ensure that the castle remained as close to what it had been to him for the arriving students. They did not _need_ to be happy, necessarily, but they did need to be _safe_.

With his back to the snoring portraits of the school’s former headmasters and headmistresses, Snape surveyed the castle grounds, lost in thought. Not too long ago, he had escaped across the very same grounds after having completed his final task from Dumbledore. Rather, he was now in the process of enacting Dumbledore’s last instructions to him; remaining with the school until such a time that he had successfully completed his duty to Lily. Those conversations, mere months ago, shadowed his every moment now.

A voice broke the thick silence that had reigned in the office.

“Professor McGonagall wishes to see you, Headmaster.”

The Gargoyles downstairs had been instructed to send word, rather than opening on cue (as they had done in Dumbledore’s day), when a meeting with the Headmaster had been requested. Things had already begun to change, McGonagall noted, as the Gargoyles separated to admit her into the Headmaster’s office.

Entering Dumbledore’s office was hard; McGonagall was strong enough to admit this without feeling insecure. She had admired, and even loved, Dumbledore. And so, to see his portrait behind his own desk filled her with a palpable sense of grief, as though his passing were still a fresh wound. They had shared a love for Transfiguration, and he had hired her shortly after vacating her post himself, a fact which she remembered fondly. His office seemed to force her recollection of these long-buried memories, and so she allowed them to wash over her peacefully, while waiting for the current headmaster to speak. It seemed, however, that Snape was in no mood to get to the point, but was instead playing some ridiculous game in order to prove his power over her. Frostily, McGonagall cleared her throat.

“You requested to speak to me, Headmaster?” she practically spat his title, her distaste for him apparent in every syllable. McGonagall realised that to express dissent so early in the school year would only make her a target; and, as an open threat, she would be less effective in continuing her self-imposed task of protecting the students at all costs. Thus, even if grudging, some modicum of respect would be necessary in order to safely continue with her own agenda. She therefore adjusted her expression accordingly to one she hoped reflected said respect.

Snape turned as McGonagall cleared her throat; truly, he’d been lost in thought, and had absently assented for the Gargoyles to admit her. Now, as she stood before him, he had to suppress his discomfort at the situation. He had learned long ago that intense dislike and distrust from others came hand-in-hand with his profession. And yet, something about having so obviously betrayed her trust, and _disappointed_ her, made him want to writhe in discomfort. It was the latter, he thought, that truly bothered him. He had never expected that his perceived betrayal would be met with anything other than blind fury; the fact that she had obviously expected better of him (and was now disappointed) made her all the more difficult to handle. He remained silent, wondering how best to broach the subject he’d called her here to discuss.

Thankfully, she did it for him.

“There are still vacancies in the staff that need to be addressed,” she bit out quietly, hoping to prompt him into some kind of conversation. The sooner Snape began this conversation, the sooner she could end it.

“Not any longer,” he replied, equally quietly.

“Do you meant to tell me that _both_ positions have been filled?” asked McGonagall incredulously. She hadn’t expected Muggle Studies or Defence Against the Dark Arts to be high on the current Ministry’s agenda. Add to that the fact that the Hogwarts Headmaster has always had autonomy over the school’s curriculum, and she had almost expected that both positions would go vacant for the rest of Snape’s time as headmaster. McGonagall had been hoping, in truth, to get a rise out of him with her question.

“Indeed,” he paused, choosing his words very carefully, “we had two very _willing_ volunteers.”

Realisation dawned on McGonagall, and anger flushed her cheeks.

“And I suppose these _volunteers_ are also friends of yours, are they?” she hissed.

“You may say so, yes,” Snape replied, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Biting her tongue, McGonagall clenched her jaw furiously.

“I think you’ll find that the Carrows will make excellent additions to our teaching staff,” added Snape calmly, “they are eager to work with pupils and staff alike.”

“Is that a threat?” she spat, any trace of respect – false or real – completely gone.

“Only if necessary,” he replied bluntly. In truth, he was relieved that McGonagall had been so quick to resist. He would need her to remain resistant at every turn, for he knew he would be forced to take unpleasant action as the year progressed. Hopefully, she would be able to protect the students from the actions of his colleagues.

“I don’t care if You-Know-Who himself decides that he wants to be headmaster; I will not bend to his will while I still have life left in me. The students of this school will not be forced into submission while I am here to protect them. Do you understand?” she replied dangerously, her voice low.

“You will find that those who resist the Dark Lord do not often live long enough to tell of their dissidence.” Snape replied, equally dangerously.

Unfazed by the threat, McGonagall met his eye daringly before asking, “Am I dismissed?”

Pausing as though to think, Snape replied, “For tonight, yes.”

Nodding stonily, McGonagall turned and left Dumbledore’s office without a backward glance.

For a few moments, the office remained silent. Then, Dumbledore spoke from his portrait, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“I fear she’s rather upset with you, Severus. But it is for the best, I think.”

“Upset would be an understatement, Headmaster,” commented Snape darkly, “She would be easier to manage if she knew the truth.”

Chuckling quietly, Dumbledore remarked, “Actually, _Headmaster_ , I think you’ll find that the truth in this case would almost certainly lead to your demise,” behind his good humour, there was a clear warning.

“Of course, it would,” replied Snape sardonically, the barest hint of boredom lacing his tone.

             

* * *

 

“The matter is not up for discussion, Minerva,” spat Professor Snape heatedly, “Mr. Longbottom is to report to my office immediately.”

Night had already fallen over the castle, and students not in detention should have already been in bed. This, at least, was what both Professors hoped, considering the danger being out of bed after hours posed to the students at this particular time.

Professor McGonagall glared at Snape frostily, her reply icy, “I don’t see why that is necessary, Headmaster.” The title slips from between her lips like poison; there is no respect, false or otherwise, from her.

This is the first conversation she and Professor Snape have had together since their last, back in August. Months have passed since, and news of Potter’s continued action – the most recent the break-in at the Ministry some weeks ago – have spurred on the actions of his former classmates. Mr. Longbottom has been a particular thorn in the side of the newly appointed Professors Carrow, and has faced severe disciplinary action as a result.

“It is necessary because I have deemed it so, Minerva,” replied Snape haughtily, “Lest I remind you that as _Headmaster_ I am at liberty to speak to any student at any time.” Shuffling the papers on his desk with a sweeping motion of his wand, Snape glanced upwards again only to find McGonagall firmly staring him down. When he made no move to withdraw his directive, she huffed in frustration.

Recognising the threat for what it was, McGonagall unwillingly acquiesced to his instruction. Sending a message via Patronus, she called for Mr. Longbottom, knowing that he was likely not asleep, but plotting his next stunt. Glaring once more at the man she had once considered an ally, McGonagall broke the momentary quiet that had fallen between them. “I don’t see why you continue to punish Mr. Longbottom so severely while continuing to ignore the work of his co-conspirators, including those outside of Gryffindor.”

“My action – or inaction – towards other students is none of your concern, Minerva,” Snape replied silkily, his tone calmer now that his wishes were being met.

A tense silence fell between them as they waited for Neville’s arrival. Not long after McGonagall’s Patronus was cast, the Gargoyles outside Snape’s office informed the professors of his arrival.

As Snape motioned for the Gargoyles to admit Neville into his office with his wand, he gestured for McGonagall to leave with his free hand. Raising his eyebrow, he added with a pretence of politeness, “I wouldn’t want to keep you, Minerva.”

“Thank you, Headmaster, but I think I’ll stay.” McGonagall’s response was firm and unrelenting. She remained standing before the desk, as she had been for the duration of their conversation. This is where Neville found her, when he entered the office shortly thereafter.

“Professor McGonagall,” he greeted with surprise, his tone respectful. He had not expected her to be in the Headmaster’s office, but was grateful for her presence. Turning stiffly to Snape, he nodded before throwing out the greeting, “Headmaster,” as though he couldn’t care less that Snape was now no longer his potions professor, but the headmaster.

“Mr. Longbottom,” Snape gestured towards the seat in front of his desk, his voice dangerously soft.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow sceptically; she had not envisioned that Snape would be so courteous towards Neville. “Would you like to discuss why Mr. Longbottom has been called to your office at this hour, Headmaster?” asked McGonagall with a touch of defiance in her tone.

“I’m afraid that the matter I wish to discuss with Mr. Longbottom is not one that concerns you, Minerva. Kindly leave us,” Snape instructed firmly, his black, glittering eyes never leaving hers.

“Mr. Longbottom is a student of my House; I would say my presence here is warranted,” she replied, equally firmly.

“May I remind you, Professor, that Mr. Longbottom is not the only member of your House, and that he is old enough by now – surely – to handle a meeting with the Headmaster.”

A flash of fury danced behind Professor McGonagall’s carefully schooled features. How dare he stand where Dumbledore had once stood and threaten the students of her house? He did not deserve the office; of that much she was certain. Still, if she were to rebel too openly, she would only be putting her own students at risk, a fact that Snape was very well aware of. Gritting her teeth, McGonagall nodded stonily before excusing herself from the office, leaving Neville and Professor Snape quite alone.

“Now, Mr. Longbottom,” began Snape slowly, drawing out each syllable of Neville’s name menacingly.

Neville watched him distrustfully, waiting to get this meeting with Snape over with.

_‘Stupefy!’_

Neville slumped in his chair – he had hardly been prepared for an attack from his headmaster. Snape circled the desk to face him and placed his wand to Neville’s temple wearily.

“ _Imperio_ ,” he breathed. Neville’s already slack expression now assumed a calmer air, prompting Snape to continue with his instructions. “ _You have heard from Mr. Boot in Ravenclaw that a group of first years will be undergoing detention in the Forest tomorrow night. They will be forced to wander aimlessly at first, before being cornered and tortured by the Carrows and some of the older Slytherin students. You will find the first years in the Forest and get them back into the castle before the Carrows can carry out the latter half of their planned detention. It is imperative that you – and not the first years – are seen escaping if you are to be seen at all. Your actions will be a message of pro-Potter support; a rallying cry to the former members of Dumbledore’s Army_.” Gritting his teeth, Snape attempted to ignore the irritation that the memory of that particular student group caused him. “ _In our meeting tonight, we discussed a disciplinary course of action that is especially heinous; you are furious that I would dare to assume power over you_ ,” he added with a touch of boredom, “ _and this continues to motivate you to act out against my regime_.”

‘ _Enervate.’_

Neville blinked slowly, his eyes still satisfactorily glazed over. Without turning to acknowledge Snape at all, he left the office and returned to the Gryffindor common room, as he had been instructed to do each time he had had a similar meeting with the Headmaster.

           

* * *

 

“It just seems odd to me, that Mr. Longbottom appears to know before any member of staff when the Carrows are to act next,” murmured Flitwick, leaning back in one of the more comfortable chairs in the Hogwarts staff room.

The room was otherwise empty, besides Professor McGonagall, and so he felt comfortable enough to speak openly, but not so much so that he would comment loudly; the castle was no longer safe enough for the professors to be able to speak their minds without fear. Opposite him, McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent about her suspicions.

It truth, she had long wondered why Snape appeared to be paying special attention to Neville these days, particularly since she seemed to remember his distinct and outspoken dislike for the young man during his early years at the school. McGonagall had begun to suspect Snape’s involvement in Neville’s interference some time ago; after all, there was the additional benefit (from Snape’s perspective, at least) that Neville often received additional punishment for disrupting the Carrows’ disciplinary sessions. Still, she could not help the pride she felt at seeing how far Neville had come since his first days at the school; he was a true Gryffindor, and had certainly proven himself several times over in the last few years alone.

It dawned on McGonagall that she had yet to reply to Flitwick properly, and so she added, “It is unusual,” pausing to choose her words carefully, she continued, “though I suspect that the students have a better network for information these days than we do.”

Flitwick chuckled lightly before commenting, “Indeed – if there’s one thing that Potter did for the school, it was to introduce a student grapevine to rival previous years. I have never known the students to be so connected, barring the Slytherins.”

“How was it that their group communicated?” asked McGonagall, suddenly remembering that it hadn’t just been word of mouth that had helped Potter’s cause during his fifth year.

“A rather clever bit of spellwork on Miss Granger’s part, as I recall,” beamed professor Flitwick. His fondness for Hermione was well known amongst the staff, and there were few who could claim that they did not share in his appreciation of her participation, if not his fondness for her. “Charmed Galleons that burned when the owner received a message.”

‘ _Was that really how they did it?’_ thought Snape as he loitered outside the staffroom. He thought that he may not be welcome in the staff room, considering its current occupants. Thus, he decided to remain outside – at least, while the conversation had the potential of being useful to him in his current dealings with Potter. ‘ _It seems I did not give the know-it-all enough credit.’_

“Ah, yes,” replied McGonagall, smiling proudly. “She’d have gone far this year, had the current regime not come into place.”

A beat of silence passed between them, and they settled into it comfortably. Both were concerned for their missing students; it’s true that McGonagall had more students absent in her house than any other, but Flitwick felt the absence of his lost students with the same weight and worry. The war had taken its toll, and both feared for the safety of those in their care, especially knowing that they were not likely to get the support and protection from the school and its administration as they might have done just a year previously.

“Do you really think he betrayed us, Minerva?” Flitwick’s voice was soft – apprehensive, almost. He knew that to broach the subject with McGonagall at that moment was not advisable, but he needed to rationalise what had been bothering him since the end of the previous year.

McGonagall cleared her throat, ire rising within her at the mere thought of that snake. “If he were truly with us – which he is too intelligent to ever attempt to convince us of – he would be standing with us now, protecting the students from You-Know-Who’s changes to the school.”

Snape stood outside stiffly, able to read Flitwick’s thoughts with little effort or worry – he had often applied his Legilimency to his colleagues, with mixed results. Minerva, though open with her emotions, seemed able to sense instinctively when her thoughts were being invaded. This fact alone stopped him from entering her mind now, though he felt the need to know exactly what she thought – particularly of him at this time – in order to predict what she had managed to divine from his interactions with Mr. Longbottom. It was imperative that she remained in the dark about his role in the dissent against the Dark Lord’s regime at Hogwarts.

Hearing the scraping of chairs in the staff room, Snape pulled himself away from the doorway, his cloak fluttering behind him as he turned in the direction of his office. A Disillusionment Charm may have been enough to conceal his presence, but to be discovered would be undignified. Besides which, now that their conversation had concluded, he no longer needed to lurk outside the staff room; it was high time he checked on Phineas Nigellus, anyway. It appeared that Potter would need him soon, and loath though he was to be helpful to the boy, he had promised Dumbledore that he would do it for Lily.

             

* * *

 

Still behind his desk, Snape turned to the portrait that graced the wall behind him.

“The end is upon us, Dumbledore,” he spoke softly, his voice the barest of whispers. He didn’t have the energy to much else; the years had worn on him, and this last one in particular had taken its toll.

“It appears so, Severus. You have done all that I have asked for, and for that, I am grateful.” Dumbledore’s reply is kind, his eyes twinkling warmly.

“And yet, you still refuse to tell me why the boy is so important,” he hisses in frustration, kneading his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“He knows what he has left to do, and you should know well enough to put your faith in him, by now, Severus. He has proven himself time and again – as have you.”

“And you’re certain that the boy will return to the castle?” asked Snape, resigned to disagreeing with Dumbledore, and not willing to rehash an old argument.

“If my calculations are correct, then yes.” On the subject, Dumbledore had no more to say that he was willing to share with Snape.

“Then we shall prepare for his arrival accordingly,” replied Snape grimly.

Something was brewing; of that, Snape was certain. The Dark Lord had sent word that Potter was on the move – and so, Snape felt it was safe to assume that the boy had successfully infiltrated Gringotts, as rumour had it. If Dumbledore proved to be correct – and there was rarely an occasion when he didn’t – then it was only a matter of time until Potter’s arrival. Knowing the Dark Lord, Potter’s successful break-in at Gringotts would likely prompt a move towards defending the school against possible entry by Potter.

Snape felt it was his duty to somehow warn his colleagues of the potential impending addition in security, but he had no idea of whether or not the Dark Lord would act tonight, or at a later date. Sensing that the danger to the school was imminent, Snape had decided that his best bet would be to somehow hint to Professor McGonagall that she should be on the alert, all while attempting to remain covert.

“Professor McGonagall wishes to see you, Headmaster.” The Gargoyle’s voice was welcome, and Snape was quick to confirm her entry into his office.

Turning his back to Dumbledore’s portrait, Snape stood calmly behind his desk, his posture firm but not stiff. He did not need McGonagall to sense the tension he felt coiled in the pit of his stomach that had slowly begun to tauten his frame.

McGonagall entered his office warily, meeting his gaze stonily as he motioned for her to take a seat. She declined, standing firmly before his desk instead.

“You are doubtless aware of the rumours circulating about Potter’s latest escapade,” began Snape slowly.

“I heard mention of a dragon, yes. Although I find that rumours about Harry tend to be rather preposterous, in general,” replied McGonagall, slightly surprised that she had been called to Snape’s office at this hour to discuss _Harry_ of all things. If nothing else, she had papers to grade that were more important than the latest Potter-related gossip, especially as darkness had not yet fallen. She was wasting precious minutes of daylight – that would fleetingly pass – that she could be using productively, discussing Harry with Professor Snape.

“Regardless of your opinion on the matter, it is felt by the Ministry that an attack on the castle is possible, in light of Potter’s latest actions,” he informed her softly, “therefore, it is probable that the castle will experience some additional security in order to protect the students.” At this, Snape found it difficult to contain his own distaste, but did so masterfully. McGonagall could not know how little he believed the Ministry’s rationale, or he would have been put in a position far more precarious than his current one. While it was entirely likely that Potter would return to Hogwarts, he did not have the support to openly attack the castle, nor did he possess the skill.

“This is ridiculous!” she fumed, patches of red rising to her cheeks, “I highly doubt that Harry, of all people, would attack Hogwarts! And to suggest so is pure foolishness,” she added, her breaths quickening as fury overtook her frame. Privately, Snape agreed. Unfortunately, there was no way of communicating that to her without placing himself in greater danger.

“Again, while I appreciate your assessment of Mr. Potter,” replied Snape snidely, maintaining his persona, “I hardly require it in taking the appropriate measures to protect this school and its students.”

Enraged, McGonagall spat, “And what measures would those be?”

At this, Snape was unable to formulate a response. If he knew what measures the Dark Lord would take, he would gladly attempt to hint at them somehow. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord seemed to be in a state of uncertainty, leaving him in a rather more dangerous position. He could not suitably protect his students while the Dark Lord remained in a state of flux; yet, he could not openly help to protect the castle, much as he’d like to. Hogwarts had once been the only true home he’d ever known; he would much rather defend the castle from within, as he had been attempting to do all year, than risk his exposure, removing him from the position he had held on to so tenuously.

“Any measures necessary,” he replied coolly, a hint of malice lacing his tone. “I would suggest that you decide now on which side you will be standing when the chips fall, Minerva.” He hoped that this would be enough of a hint that action was imminent; a suitably veiled threat for her to be vigilant for any signs of movement.

Practically growling in furious response, McGonagall shot back, “I already know where my loyalties lie, _Headmaster,_ if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

Without another word, she stormed away from his office, dismissing herself from the conversation.

She had had enough of his threats and slippery talk; the only good thing to come of their conversation was that she would be prepared when the time came for Potter to enter the castle, and she would do everything in her power to aid the boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt received from my best friend and fellow Potterhead Phoenix_Fairy: "conversations leading up to Mcgonagall calling Snape a coward in the Great Hall. Possibly involving Flitwick."   
> Merry Christmas, bestie! I hope you enjoy this oneshot written with love about your favourite Potions Master.


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